A Lesson In Love
by Jaya Avendel
Summary: WANTED: A therapist to attend sessions with Prince Legolas Thranduilion Greenleaf daily. REWARD: Anything within reason.


_**Disclaimer: I am not Tolkien but all the characters in this story are mine except Legolas and Thranduil. Please R &R. I would love to hear your thoughts!  
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"NAAAAANNNNNAAAAA! NANNNAAAA! I want my NAAAANNNNNAAA!"

At the sound of the cries, Thranduil opened his eyes. He flung on a robe and raced down the hall to his son's room. He had not really been sleeping; he had been dozing, waiting in annoyance for the cries to begin.

Prince Legolas had nightmares every night. And every night he woke up from the bad dreams howling for his mother. But his mother was dead. And, since no nursemaid could console the weeping, frightened Prince, his father had to do it or listen to Legolas scream all night long.

Thranduil burst into his son's room. The nursemaids had already gathered like vultures around the bed. In the center of the bed lay Legolas, pale as his sheets, screaming for his mother while tears flooded down his royal cheeks.

"Thank valar you are here, my lord," said the nursemaids, turning to Thranduil as he entered. "Prince Legolas thinks us to me orcs!"

Thranduil sat down on the bed and picked up his son. He held the little bundle close to his heart, whispering, "Sshhh, shhhh, little leaf. Ada is here now. Ada is here. You are safe, ion-nin. Ada is with you."

Legolas wrapped his arms around Thranduil's neck and held on tight. He cried into his father's warm chest. "I love you, ada. I love you so much. Please do not go."

Thranduil heaved a sigh. "I am not going anywhere, little leaf. Hush now. Go back to sleep. Ada will stay and hold you all night."

Legolas snuggled up against his father and fell asleep latched onto him. Thranduil lay awake long after the nursemaids had departed, feeling angry that he could not get one decent night of sleep. He began to hate the little bundle of love he held.

The next day an angry King sat in his throne with bloodshot eyes and a foul temper. At his feet played Legolas, fully rested and cheerful.

"Look, ada, look," he kept saying, showing Thranduil his silly pictures of animals and elves and waiting happily for his father's encouragement and praise.

Thranduil could not take it any longer. He had sat and praised Legolas's drawings long enough. He wanted to grab his son and beat him to make him shut up. But, as much as he wanted to hurt his son to teach him a lesson, Thranduil knew beating his son would hurt him more then it hurt Legolas.

"Look, ada, I made a picture for you," Legolas said happily. "See?"

Thranduil grabbed the picture with a growl. It was a picture of him dressed in nothing but a ridiculous set of knickers. Thranduil gritted his teeth; this was the last straw! He tore the picture in two and rose out of his throne, yelling, "You have no drawing talent whatsoever! Give me all your pencils and paper, you insolent brat, and get out of my sight!"

Legolas's eyes opened wide. His father had never threatened him before. His lower lip trembled and he looked afraid. He took a step away from his angry sire and fled, crying harshly.

Thranduil did not care if Legolas cried. He cried enough and earned enough of _his_ sympathy during the night. He sat down grumpily in his throne as a row of nursemaids filed onto his throne platform.

"My lord, we have seen you suffer all these long nights comforting Prince Legolas but no more! We have found a solution to all your problems! The solution is called A Therapist!" the nursemaids announced triumphantly.

"A what?" Thranduil yawned.

"A therapist, my lord, is someone who will talk to the Prince and discover the reason for his nightmares. The therapist will find a way to heal the Prince's state of mind and give you nightmare-free nights, my lord! Therapist's work wonders on the unbalanced mind, my lord. They can heal _any_ state of mind; they are mental healers!"

Thranduil straightened in his throne. He shook himself awake with an effort. This _could_ be the answer to all his problems! "This news is indeed good. I must have a therapist at once! Summon my messengers!"

The nursemaids bowed and departed.

By the next day the news was all over Mirkwood, tacked to every tree. _WANTED: A therapist with former experience with nightmares, trouble accepting death, and young, disturbed minds to attend sessions with Prince Legolas Greenleaf daily. Success will be rewarded with your choice of a reasonable reward._

Thranduil found himself overwhelmed by answers to his notice. After he had painstakingly sorted out all the elves who thought they could help the Prince but were not really sure, he was left with five elves who claimed to have helped other elflings get over their nightmares and fear of death.

Prince Legolas was put through four therapy sessions with four different therapists to no avail. He continued to wake up at night screaming and Thranduil continued to get no sleep.

Thranduil was lying on his bed with a cool cloth on his forehead to help dull the ache of his headache, wondering if beating his son would make him shut up at night, when the fifth untested therapist entered his bedchamber unannounced.

"My lord," said the elf, "My name is Abramil. I can help your son."

Thranduil groaned. Images of a bruised, frightened son danced in his mind, tormenting him and keeping him from harming his child. "You sound quite certain you can help my son, Abramil. Very well, take your best shot. Legolas is in his room down the hall."

"Thank you, my lord. But I must ask your permission to—"

Thranduil groaned again. "Do whatever you must. Oooh, my head . . . !" Thranduil rolled onto his side, clutching his head and groaning. Presently he fell asleep and slept for four hours.

Thranduil awoke with dim memories of sending a therapist to Legolas's room. He got out of bed and walked to his son's room, combing his hair as he went. But as he walked through the doorway of Legolas's room, his jaw dropped open in amazement and anger.

Legolas, dressed in his best robes in preparation for his next therapy session, was running around his room with another elflings. Abramil was sitting in a chair, reading a book placidly.

"What on Middle Earth is going on here?" Thranduil demanded. "How did this young rascal get in here? What happened to the therapy session? I order you to explain this outrage!"

Abramil flipped a page in his book. One leg protruded out of his split skirt. "Indeed, my lord. The therapy session is well under way. The young rascal is my son, Finduliun. You yourself assured me I could bring my son with me."

"What kind of therapist _are_ you? Legolas, stop trashing your room! Abramil, get your son out of here!"

"Oh, please let him stay, ada!" Legolas begged. "We are having such a good time! Please let him stay!"

Thranduil felt his headache beginning to return. He turned on his heel and left the room. As he was collapsing on his bed, Abramil slipped into the chamber behind him.

"My lord, do you know the time Prince Legolas usually wakes up with his nightmares?" Abramil asked.

"I know only to well!" Thranduil snapped. "Now I need some advice; do I continue to suffer or do I beat a lesson into my son?"

"Neither, my lord. I must ask you to conceal yourself in Prince Legolas's room before he wakes up screaming. Whatever happens, do not reveal yourself until I give the signal."

Thranduil looked suspiciously at Abramil. "Is this going to help my son?"

"Yes, my lord. It is _essential_ to his recovery."

"Very well, I will do as you ask. Now leave me."

"Yes, my lord."

At the appointed time that night, Thranduil left his room and slipped quietly into Legolas's bedchamber. He concealed himself behind a curtain that hung over the window in his son's room. Legolas was sleeping in bed with Finduliun beside him. In the shadows of the room, Abramil sat quietly.

Half an hour passed.

Legolas sat up in bed. He opened his mouth to scream but a hand closed over it. "No," said Abramil.

Legolas cringed. He looked anxiously at Abramil as Abramil took his hand away from his mouth.

"You do not really have nightmares, do you?" Abramil said, sitting down on the bed.

Legolas hung his head in shame. "No," he muttered. "I just want my ada to hold me."

Abramil nodded. "I know. How did it start?"

Legolas took a deep breath and began in a forlorn voice, "It started after my nana died. I was sad and alone and lost but ada was there to hold me and comfort me and love me. Then he stopped holding me at night but I still needed him so badly! He stopped hugging and cuddling me! I missed his love so much! And when I asked him to hold me, he told me to go grow up! Then one night I had a real nightmare and I woke up screaming for nana. Ada came and held me tight and-and I was so happy! I started to pretend to have nightmares so he would come and hold me at night. It was the only way I could get him to love me and I know it was wrong. I just wanted my ada! What is wrong with that?" Legolas was sobbing now.

"Nothing. But it does annoy your father when he gets now sleep."

"I-I know. And then ada got m-mad and he y-yelled at me and he took away all my pencils! He did not care I was sad and hurt! And then he sent all those horrible people to talk to me and tell me how unjust I was being waking my adar at night! Are you going to tell him what I did?"

"No, Legolas. You must tell him yourself."

More tears filled Legolas's eyes. He buried his head in his hands and cried. "No! He would not understand! I-I am scared of him when he gets mad!"

A pair of strong, warm arms encircled Legolas and held him close. Legolas went rigid. "Ada! B-but I did not scream for you this time."

Thranduil rocked his son. He laid his cheek on Legolas's soft head and murmured, "Oh, ion-nin, forgive me. I did not mean to neglect you. There is not excuse for what I did; I am deeply and truly sorry."

"H-how did you get in? H-how much did you hear?" Legolas asked frantically.

"I am not angry with you, little leaf. I promise I will try to show you how much I love you more then I do now. I do love you, my little leaf, and I always will."

"Really? You are not mad? Honest?"

"Honest," said Thranduil.

Legolas turned around and wrapped his arms around his father's neck. He laid his head on Thranduil's shoulder and his father's strong arms wrapped around him and held him tight. The arms held him for a long time, treasuring the moment. Then they let go and began to stroke Legolas's hair.

"What shall I do?" Thranduil wondered aloud.

"Instead of sleeping apart from your son, my lord, take him to bed with you," Abramil suggested. "Legolas needs you. Fulfill that need and he will no longer be alone in his fear."

"Would you like that, little leaf?" Thranduil asked gently.

"Very much, adar," Legolas answered tearfully. He started to cry again.

"Oh, do not cry, ion-nin. Ada is here. I will always love you no matter what you do."

Legolas smiled shakily. His father rubbed his back sympathetically. "T-these are happy tears, adar. I thought you had forgotten me. I thought you had stopped l-loving me. I am so happy to know that I was wrong."

Thranduil patted his son on the back. He lowered Legolas to the bed and tucked him back under the blankets. Legolas squirmed around, getting comfortable, and settled down.

"How did you know what was wrong with my son?" Thranduil asked Abramil.

Abramil looked fondly at his own son. "Well, my lord, Finduliun went through a similar phase when his mother died. Humans killed her under his very eyes so his nightmares were a little more violent and quite real. I made the same mistake you did and neglected him. Finduliun climbed into my bed one night. I understood what he was trying to say when he hugged me."

Thranduil looked more closely at Abramil. "Who are you? I do not recognize you from among my people."

"Indeed, my lord. I-I am a half-elf. My father is a wood elf but my mother is human. It took a long time to get the disguise to look just right."

Thranduil recoiled as Abramil's long hair fell off in a puddle. Abramil wiped away the makeup from around his eyes and eyebrows to reveal more humanly shaped features. He looked at Thranduil sadly. "Please do not throw me in your dungeons, my lord, and take my son from me," he pleaded.

Thranduil looked furious. "Where did you get that wig from? Whose hair did you take? Do you not know an elf's pride is his hair?"

"My lord, all my apologizes, but this is my mother's hair. She cut it last week and let me have the trimmings," Abramil explained quickly.

Thranduil calmed. "I see. Where do your parents live?"

"At the edge of Mirkwood. I came here with my son because Prince Legolas needed my help. I could not refuse aid to the son of my lord."

"You must take me to see your parents some time soon."

"Yes, my lord."

"In the meantime, we will overlook the fact that you are partly human. You certainly _act_ elven enough!"

"Hannon le, my lord," Abramil said in relief.

"Come, Legolas," Thranduil said. "We are going to my bedchamber."

The next morning, Abramil knelt before Thranduil's throne.

"You have successfully cured my son of his nightmares," Thranduil announced. "You may now chose your reward and, if it is reasonable, I will grant it."

"My lord, in ask permission that my family be allowed to live freely among the people of Mirkwood without being cruelly treated," Abramil said.

"Why would you be cruelly treated by the wood elves?" Thranduil demanded.

"My wife and I went with Finduliun to a human village once," Abramil explained. "The humans drove us off, claiming we were monsters. That was where my wife died."

"I offer all my apologies over the death of your wife," Thranduil said. "You will be welcomed here. We will be honored to have half-elves living among us."

"Thank you, my lord," Abramil smiled. "I am unspeakably grateful." He bowed and departed with his son to share the good news with his family.

"Ada? Look, I made you a picture," Legolas said happily.

Thranduil took the picture Legolas handed him. It was a drawing of the Mighty King of Mirkwood wit huge horns on his forehead, glowing eyes, long claws, and flames shooting out of his mouth.

Thranduil took a deep breath and said, "Hmm, yes, it is very nice, Legolas. But for future reference I do not have claws, horns, or flames inside me."

"That is what you look like when you are angry," Legolas explained.

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 _ **Thanks so much for reading! Please review and tell me how much you loved or did not love this story!**_


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